Page 103 of Deadly Attraction
The veterinarian appeared in the doorway, her face blanching as she took in Emma’s condition. “Oh, dear God. Is she alive? What can I do?”
“If you know anything about knife wounds, you can ride with her in the helicopter to the hospital,” Mitch said as she moved aside and he and Nelson swung the stretcher into the hall. “Otherwise, stay here and help Will.”
It took careful finagling to get Emma down the stairs and outside. The vet ran alongside confessing to Mitch that she didn’t feel qualified to handle this type of emergency, but that she would do her best to stabilize Emma until they got to the hospital.
With the stretcher inside the tight quarters of the helicopter, there was only room for the doctor and Director Dupé. Having secured her in with the help of the pilot, Mitch was about to back out when Emma’s hand grabbed hold of his shirt.
He looked over and saw her lips moving, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying over the noise of the blades.
Leaning down, he gave her hand a squeeze. “You’re going to be okay,” he yelled over the noise.
She said something again and he put his ear close to hers. “What?”
“I love…you.”
His head snapped up and he met her eyes.Love, that one little word making his heart swell and recoil at the same time.
He opened his mouth to respond, saw her eyes go fuzzy and roll up into her head.
Shit. He had to let the chopper go. Get her to decent medical care.
Letting go of her hand, he hung his head for a brief moment.If she dies…
Mitch climbed out of the helicopter and faced Dupé who was about to climb in. He stuck his arm out, barring the director from his seat.
“I want to ride with her,” he yelled, ignoring a hollowness inside him that made it hard to breathe.
Dupé’s brows crashed together as he bent over from the wash of the blades. Behind him, Cooper and the others watched somberly. The CSI techs were half-watching too, as they processed the van’s crime scene. Will, standing on the porch with the dogs looked on with a grim countenance.
“Please,” Mitch insisted. When was the last time he’d saidthatword to a superior? He didn’t even say it to his mother anymore. “Collins is still my responsibility, sir, and I don’t intend to let her die.”
Dupé brushed his jacket back, a muscle in his jaw jumping.
“We’re ready, Director,” the pilot called.
Mitch was sure Dupé was going to tell him to get out of the way, when instead, the director’s gaze flicked to his chest. “Are you wearing my shirt?” he yelled.
Mitch’s blood ran cold. “Yourshirt?”
Dupé gave him a curt nod and waved him off. “Get in the chopper, son, and don’t make me regret this.”
He was wearing Victor Dupé’s shirt.
Victor Dupé, the man who had helped Emma through Christmas last year. Helped her grieve.
Mitch shut down the jealousy and transplanted the veterinarian, hustling her into the seat next to the pilot as he took up a position next to Emma.
The pilot handed both of them headsets.
“I can’t help her from here,” the doctor said as she spoke into the microphone.
Mitch clasped Emma’s hand between his own. “Tell me what to do. I’ll keep her alive.”
The vet gave him a pointed look, but she must have seen the determination and downright stubbornness on his face. She nodded, and as she began reeling off instructions, they lifted into the air.
Six hours later, Emma was still in surgery. The injury was serious; she’d lost a lot of blood before they’d gotten her to the ER. If it had happened a few hours earlier, when Dupé was nowhere near and the others hadn’t arrived, she would be dead.
That thought churned in Mitch’s head as he paced the halls, dead on his feet, but unable to sit still.
